Chapter 4 - The Second VoiceThe basement speakers crackled with static, and then Isabella’s voice returned—clearer this time, amplified by the studio-grade audio equipment Matteo had brought down.
“If you’re hearing this, Alessandro, it means Vivien finally did it.”
Vivien froze, her eyes locked on the speakers in sheer disbelief. “She—she couldn't have known I was going to do it that night! I improvised!”
“You think you’re clever, Vivien,” Isabella’s recorded voice continued, filled with a heartbreaking calm. “You’ve been siphoning funds from the Duca shipping accounts through shell companies in the Cayman Islands for eight months. I found the ledger in your desk. I also found the medical reports where you’ve been slowly altering my evening iron supplements with heavy metal neurotoxins to make me look unstable to Alessandro.”
Alessandro’s breath caught in his throat. He looked at Vivien, whose mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“I’m leaving tonight,” Isabella’s voice went on. “I’m taking Lily to my brother in Zurich. But if anything happens to me before I reach the airport—if I fall down these stairs, or if my heart mysteriously stops—look inside the seam of Lily’s favorite cream teddy bear. I had Sophia sew this in while you were away in New York, Vivien. Because I knew you watched my every move, but you never suspected the quiet maid.”
The recording clicked off.
The silence in the basement was absolute. Even the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead seemed to die away.
Alessandro slowly stood up. The grief that had hollowed him out for the past twelve months hardened into something much darker, much older, and infinitely more dangerous.
“Sophia,” Alessandro called toward the steel door.
The heavy door creaked open immediately. Sophia stood in the hallway, her hands tightly clasped, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She had heard every word through the intercom system Matteo had left running.
“Sir?” Sophia answered steadily.
“You knew?” Alessandro asked, looking at the quiet, unassuming woman who had cleaned his home for three years.
“I didn't know what was inside the bear, Mr. Duca,” Sophia said, her voice unwavering. “Mrs. Duca gave it to me herself two nights before she died. She handed me the needle and thread in the dead of night, crying quietly. She told me: ‘Sophia, keep this safe. Give it to Lily only when the house is in danger, and let Emma be the one to open it, because children have the purest hands to find the truth.’ I kept my promise.”
Alessandro looked back at Vivien. The woman looked like a ghost executed twice over. Her web of lies, spun meticulously over years of manipulation, had unraveled in less than ten minutes because of a three-year-old girl in one sock.
“Matteo,” Alessandro said quietly, buttoning his suit jacket. “Pack her things. Send her to the warehouse on 4th Street. Let the Italian creditors know that the missing funds from the Cayman accounts have been located.”
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“And what about the police, Boss?” Matteo asked, drawing his pistol to check the magazine.
“The police report already says my wife died of an accidental fall,” Alessandro said coldly, walking toward the steel exit. “We don't need to change the paperwork. We just need to ensure Vivien has a very long, very quiet accident of her own while trying to escape.”
